


You're What I Need

by squidnie



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: And Clarke likes it, Bellamy Talks Dirty, Clarke and Bellamy talk it out and have sex, F/M, but it's basically just sex, this is basically pwp, with a lot of appreciation of Bellamy's body
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 15:11:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7320268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squidnie/pseuds/squidnie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the threat of the end of the world is gone once again, everyone celebrates. Everyone except Bellamy and Clarke, who celebrate in their own way. Together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're What I Need

**Author's Note:**

> So this is almost 1500 words of sex. It is also the first time I’ve written smut, so it's probably pretty tame. Any words of encouragement/criticism are welcome. But please be nice. I'm shy and I'm sure I blushed a lot writing this.

The party is in full-swing by the time Clarke joins it. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to go, but since she was one of the guests of honor she figured it would be rude to skip out on it.

It’s just that saving the world (as people have deemed it, of course) doesn’t exactly make her want to celebrate, as hard as that is to understand. It mostly just makes her want to sleep for a week. And then celebrate. But Azgeda worked differently, and most of Skaikru was happy to mold to grounder customs in this particular situation.

Clarke finds her friends around a fire, most of them considerably drunk already, and it makes her smile. They do deserve to have fun. Months and months of war, and then searching for reactors and shutting them down has made adults out of young kids, and Clarke knows that everyone needs a chance to let loose and have fun. 

There is one person that isn’t doing that, though. Clarke’s eyes find him easily, standing behind the group, shoulders tense as if he physically cannot let himself relax and join the festivities.

“Hey,” she says quietly as she walks up beside Bellamy, “How about that drink?”

And that’s how they end up back in the cabin that Azgeda gave him, a bottle of moonshine on the floor between them. It’s how they end up basically spilling their souls to each other, letting go of everything they have kept bottled up since ALIE’s defeat.

Clarke knows she’s not drunk, but the moonshine is a good excuse to use when she tells him, “I was scared, Bellamy. I haven’t been not scared since we landed on the ground.

“We don’t have any threats looming over our heads now, though, Clarke,” he reminds her, “At least that we know of.”

It’s a stupid joke, not even funny, but it makes Clarke laugh. And once Clarke starts laughing Bellamy joins her, and they laugh until their stomachs hurts and they’re leaning closer and suddenly nothing is funny anymore.

Bellamy’s voice is low when he says, “I’m scared too.” Clarke doesn’t respond, she just stands up and turns away from him, hiding her face as she wipes her tears. Bellamy immediately stands and gently takes her arm to turn her to face him again. “Hey,” he says, “I’m scared, but I’m – I’m happy, Clarke.”

She looks at him like she doesn’t believe him. Like she doesn’t believe he could possibly be telling the truth.

“Do you want to know why I’m happy, Clarke?”

The tone of his voice makes her want to say no. He sounds like he’s going to make a speech, like he’s going to try to convince her why everything is okay. But when he opens his mouth, that isn’t what he does. She really should have known better than to think he was going to lie to her and tell her everything was okay. Instead, he tells her the truth, and she knows it, even though he only says three little words.

“I love you.”

She kisses him. He doesn’t respond at first, but when her hands slide up into his hair he catches on. His hands fall to her waist and he kisses back, a soft noise in his throat. The kiss is soft, tentative, like they’re learning each other, and they are. Clarke knows that they’re doing things backward. In another time, they would have gone on a date before they kissed, and they would have kissed a hundred times before either of them were brave enough to say that it was love. This world is what they have, though, and at that moment Clarke wouldn’t change it for anything.

She starts to pull away, but Bellamy pulls her closer and deepens the kiss. At that moment something changes in the atmosphere. A soft moan falls from Clarke’s lips and she presses her body to his, suddenly needing to feel all of him, to prove to herself that he’s here and he’s hers and they’re together.

“Bellamy,” she whispers when she sucks in a breath. He tilts his head to kiss her jaw, pulling away when she drops her hands to the waist of his jeans and tugs. The action causes his hardening erection to press against her stomach, and it makes Clarke want more.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice low as he looks down at Clarke. She nods. Her hand on his neck moves up into his hair and she pulls him down to kiss her again.

After that it’s a mess of lips and tongues and hands. They kiss like they need it to breathe, like they need each other to live. Clarke opens her mouth when Bellamy licks her lips and lets him in, their tongues sliding against each other. It’s hot and dirty, and it only makes Clarke want him more.

Her hands pull at Bellamy’s shirt. He lets out an annoyed sound into her mouth, but breaks the kiss after a moment to pull his t-shirt over his head.

“Yours, too,” he says with a smile, and Clarke lifts her arms so he can lift her shirt off her. His eyes immediately fall to her breasts, still covered in her threadbare ark-issued bra, and she can’t fight the smirk that graces her lips.

“Come on,” she whispers. She leans up into Bellamy and they kiss again. His hands slide up her back to deftly unhook her bra. She lets it fall, kicking it to the side, and the two of them moan in tandem at the feel of their bare chests pressed together. Bellamy trails his lips down Clarke’s neck, shivers when her nails scratch his back and she moans softly.

“Bed,” he mumbles against her pulse point, nipping gently before she stumbles back to his borrowed bed. She frees the button on her jeans, allowing Bellamy to pull them off her legs before he gets on the bed, leaning over her to kiss again.

Clarke runs her hands over Bellamy’s chest lazily, determined to memorize him. The planes of his muscles, the ridges and bumps of the countless scars he has received on the ground; she wants to know them as much as she knows her own. She wants to commit to memory the freckles that are scattered around his dark nipples, the color of his scars on his abdomen that are a shade lighter than his tanned skin.

“You’re beautiful,” she whispers as his lips attach to one of her nipples. He looks up at her with a start before resuming his task, making Clarke moan at the suction. She allows herself only a moment of selfish pleasure before remembering that Bellamy is still only half-naked. “Kiss me,” she says, and his smile when he lifts his head is breath-taking. This kiss is more teeth than lips, but it’s perfect.

Clarke’s hands are shaking as she works on Bellamy’s jeans. The nerves are a new things for her. She wasn’t ever this nervous with any of her other partners. Even with Lexa, it was all passion and heat and the two of them in that moment, and Clarke never had time to be nervous.

With Bellamy, though, everything is different. Clarke knows now that they have been working toward this moment – their love – for a long time, now. The weight of the situation isn’t lost on her, and the nerves that she’s feeling mix with love and passion and lust for the man above her and makes it all the more perfect.

“Hey,” Bellamy’s voice is low. Clarke can feel his breath on her lips. “Still here, Clarke? Still with me?”

“I’m with you,” she responds, opening her eyes to look up into his. They’re so dark that they’re almost black and Clarke has never seen anything more beautiful. “I was just thinking about how big this is.”

“Well,” he says, nipping at her bottom lip before starting to move down the bed, “clearly, you need to stop thinking.”

Clarke closes her eyes then as Bellamy’s lips find her thigh. His fingers skirt up her legs and hook in her plain panties, and she can feel his smile on her thigh as he pulls her underwear down and she loses contact with him. When she opens her eyes to see where he went, her panties are gone along with his jeans and boxers. Her eyes drop to his cock, hard and flushed, on their own accord.

“Bell.” His name falls from her lips before she can think to stop it. He lowers himself onto his elbows, gently spreading her legs, and grins up at her.

“Hey, Princess,” he says, and the deep, husky quality in his voice sends a shiver up her spine. “Relax, yeah?”

She tries, but it’s hard to relax when he drops his mouth between her legs and licks up her slit. She can feel his moan against her body and it’s good, it’s so good that she drops her hands to fist in his curls and hold his mouth to her.

Bellamy is gorgeous as he works at her cunt. The sight enough would be enough to bring Clarke to the edge even without the feeling of his warm, wet mouth on her. She’s moaning, and she would be embarrassed by how loud she is if she didn’t know that Bellamy was getting off on the whole thing. He grinds on the bed as he tongue-fucks her. His ass flexes as he does and Clarke thinks that his whole body is flawless. She’d be jealous if he wasn’t currently using it to pleasure her.

He must realize that she’s thinking again, because when he flicks his tongue over her clit and she looks at his face, he’s smirking.

“Are you going to come for me, Clarke?” he asks, and Clarke moans loudly and throws her head back at his words. His tongue returns to her clit and then he sucks, and Clarke’s world goes white.

She’s tugging at his hair before she even fully comes down from her orgasm, and she can taste herself on his tongue when he surges up to kiss her.

“Bellamy,” she whines.

“I know, baby,” he whispers. Clarke spreads her legs and he lowers himself to the cradle of her hips, dragging his cock through her wetness. “I know what you need. I’ll take care of you.”

“Please,” she whispers, and he presses into her. She moans loudly as he fills her, loving the stretch and the feel of his hot breath on her neck as he whispers her name.

He pauses once he’s fully sheathed in her, giving her time to adjust to his size, but Clarke is not having any of that. She rolls her hips, smirking at his moan. “Come on, Bell,” she says breathlessly, “fuck me.”

And he does. He moves slowly at first, dragging himself almost all the way out of her before thrusting back in. Clarke’s loud moans and the way his name falls from her lips like a prayer guides him on, letting him know what she likes. Her nails scratch down Bellamy’s back and she grabs his ass, trying to keep him close. His answering moans make her shiver. She knows she isn’t going to last long after that.

“Clarke,” he whispers, his voice deep and strained and fucking sexy, “Clarke, you feel so good. You’re so hot and wet for me, baby. Clarke, I’m gonna fill you up, gonna make you feel good…”

Once again, it’s Bellamy’s words that send Clarke to the edge. Her whole body shudders and she clutches at him tighter. This time, though, she’s able to hold herself back. Just for a moment longer.

“Together, Bellamy,” her voice is almost pleading, high-pitched and needy as she arches her back in an effort to get even closer to him. “Please, come with me.”

His thrusts become erratic then, and Clarke loves the look on his face as he loses control. His body shakes and he buries himself in her as he comes. The way his pubic bone grinds on her clit is just right, and Clarke comes a moment later, her hands dragging up his back to grip his hair as he rides out their orgasms together, thrusting slowly and shallowly until they both come down.

When Clarke’s breathing returns to normal, she’s lying on her side with her head propped on Bellamy’s chest. She lifts her head to look at him and smiles when she sees that his eyes are closed, a content expression on his face. She takes the opportunity to admire him, the hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, the smattering of freckles that was the darkest over his nose and faded out over his cheekbones.

“Like what you see?” His eyes are still closed, but Bellamy’s relaxed tone has a hint of amusement to it.

“I love you,” Clarke replies. She can’t resist the smile that spreads his lips.

So she kisses him, and he kisses back, and he’s smiling again when he tells her, “I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm posting this in a hurry, so I'm posting without serious editing. I'll come back and fix any mistakes.
> 
> Fangirl Bellarke with me on tumblr at nomsyy


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